


...Katrielle

by MabelLover



Series: Your name is... [1]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Family, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelLover/pseuds/MabelLover
Summary: Your name is Katrielle. Your mother raised you by herself while searching for a treasure.One day, she doesn’t come back, and you’re left looking for her.
Relationships: Katrielle Layton & Kamilla Azan
Series: Your name is... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683043
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	...Katrielle

Your name is Katrielle. You are ten years old and you live in London with your mother, an archeologist looking for an ancient treasure. She shows you the books with pretty pictures and teaches you how to solve puzzles, and she leaves to work and you go to school. You don’t like school – not really. You are smart, but the logic that they ask you to use is so dry, so clear-cut; you make leaps of logic and understand things differently because you know how to look elsewhere, because while some look for the murder weapon, you look for what the killer was eating.

Your house is filled with loose papers and misplaced books and you learn how to navigate a mess, how to be organized in chaos, and you and your Mother eat biscuits and laugh at the telly while studying the Azran and knitting a shirt. Your pictures are covered in drawings and stickers, your letters are ripped away after read to make for firewood, your teacups are hand painted and chipped.

The neighbors whisper because there is no father, but why should you care for him? All you know is that is name was Kyle and that he died before you were born. You have no need for him.

Your mother leaves for her expeditions and you stay with your granny waiting for the letters and hating the smell of cleanliness and order that permeates the house, hating having to complete your homework before doing something else, the insistence on drinking tea every day at the same time instead of whenever you please. At least, everything goes back to normal once she returns.

One day, she doesn’t come back. Or rather, her weekly letter doesn’t come and neither does the next one, until it’s been three weeks and the police comes and tells you that she is missing. Not dead, like they tell your granny that she most likely is. You know that your mother is strong, so whatever happened couldn’t have killed her. The adults look at you, hair pulled back in a braid so tightly it hurts, fists closed tight on your clean dress and knees clean and smile kindly at you but you smell the beer and cigarettes disguised with perfume and you know that they are stressed for not finding your mother. And you know that you’re better than any of them.

Your new house is still clean and tidy but your granny starts to clean and dust and mend even when there is nothing to clean and dust and mend, her hands perpetually red and rough from all the scrubbing. Your hair is still pulled back into a painful braid and your dress is still clean and everything you once thought was temporary becomes permanent and all you have are the pictures covered in drawings and stickers that you keep under a loose floorboard because every other was burned in the fireplace along with your granny’s tears. You take the books that were donated to the local library and you study feverishly, you learn of the lost civilizations and you try to reconstruct your mother’s notebook from memory and studying.

You go to school and you find that, while still dull and uninspiring, you need the grades to study Archeology. The teachers seem impressed at your recovery from a barely passing grade to one of the best, they try to push you to Mathematics and Sciences but you keep your gaze leveled and ignore them while continuing to read the thick archeology under your desk. It’s no surprise to you that you pass the entrance exam to Gressenheller with ease, and your granny stands proudly next to you for a photograph, believing that at least one of her descendants will have a proper life.

In your time at the college, you study under Professor Layton, a man who takes you under his wing like a daughter. You go on adventures with him, discovering lost treasures all around the world, and it’s then that you stumble upon a traveler with a purple jewel that matches the drawings on your notebook. The Professor buys it for you, talking about Relic Stones and ancient legends, and during tea you talk of your mother and how you think she had all of them once.

You cut your hair. It seems right, to no longer be bound by the rules imposed to you because you know that your mother is alive and you’ll find her. You pack your things and you run around, investigating, finding the Stones, and you wind up where your mother was last seen only to find an empty cave but not disappointment, because now you know just where your mother has to be.

The grounds of the Cathedral of Southhampton are dead and dry, nothing can grow there, and you feel that poison is in the ground, the smell overpowering. It leaves you dizzy, and you realize that there is a very large chance of disappearing like your mother did, so the last thing you do before entering is to leave a message to the Professor. One that he’ll know is meant for him, one last puzzle.

When the cultists hit your head and you fall like a puppet whose strings have been cut, you feel your mother’s hand on yours as everything fades away.

The first thing you notice is the cold. Then, you feel sore and tired, like you’ve been laying in one position for too long. Your hair tickles your neck, and the light is too bright, your surroundings to fuzzy. You hear something, but it’s like you’re underwater, so you try to focus–

“Katrielle!”

Your mother is kneeling in front of you, tears in her eyes. She brings you up to a hug, and you hug her back, and for the first time in years your smile comes free, unrestrained. The Professor stands behind your mother, a young man with him, and you stand up and leave the room under the Cathedral to watch the cultists be arrested.

As the Professor and his companion, Luke, go in search for the rest of the mystery, you wave goodbye with your mother in your dirty clothes and bruised knees.

Your name is Katrielle, and you know that you can now start to live your own life.


End file.
